Empty Lungs
by allinfected
Summary: 'Holly wasn't a warrior, she wasn't a fighter; she wasn't built for this world. She just had to run until there was no where else to go, until she couldn't, and they got her, and maybe one day, if there was anyone left, it could be said that at least she tried.' M for blood and gore, swearing, racist slurs, sexual situations and my atrocious occasional attempts at humor. Daryl/OC.
1. The Beginning

**Hello readers! Long time Walking Dead fic reader, first time poster (also first time posting on this site, and the formatting is kind of kicking my ass, so forgive any glaring errors. I'll work it out eventually.) **  
**Any constructive criticism about the story itself will be taken in and nurtured like a tiny puppy. (Also please forgive any glaring American-knowledge errors and any Australian-ism's that slip in.)**

**This is a Daryl/OC fic, as the summary suggests. It's a WIP and while I already have about 5 parts written out, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update, but I'll try to make it fairly regularly. **

**Also I disclaim heavily, don't own the Walking Dead or anything. Just my character and her plot and stuff. And also the title is somewhat a reference to the City & Color song Sleeping Sickness, which I also don't own.**

**On with the story because I've most certainly rambled enough.**

You would think that the zombie apocalypse would be about the survival of the fittest. The smartest people and the most weapon and survival savvy would survive, but that's not necessarily the case. In reality, it probably just has to do more with luck than anything else. Not being in the wrong places at the wrong times; making all the wrong decisions and somehow managing to survive has more to do with luck than brute force or instincts.

You can joke around and make plans with your friends regarding a hypothetical apocalypse all you like but that doesn't mean shit when push comes to shove and all you can do is run for your life, hide where you can, and stick geeks through the eye with the blunted end of one of your mom's kitchen knives when you have to.

It's easy to say to your best friend "We can hide out here at my place, we always have shit tonnes of rice in the cupboard and my mom buys canned vegetables like it's going out of fashion," but when it comes down to it, and you're putting the blunted knife through that best friends eye so they don't bite you, you realise that it's not really as easy as that.

And that's how Holly ended up sitting in the middle of the bench seat in an old blue pick-up, between two brothers that grew up three blocks behind the housing estate she spent most of her life in, staring at the road ahead while her town is overrun behind her. The edges of Holly's vision are darkening with fatigue, but she couldn't sleep if she wanted to. The brothers are both silent, one looking around vigilantly like he's been doing this for years, while the other one drives on ahead, occasionally, sickeningly, chuckling as he hits one of the creatures moving towards their slow paced vehicle. The bumps jolt the car, snap Holly out of her daze for a few moments, before she settles back in to staring at the lines in the middle of the road.

Holly couldn't tell you how long it was before they ended up on the interstate; the sun is going down, but that means nothing because she doesn't even know what time they hit the road. There's cars everywhere but none of them are moving. Holly can see people sitting inside them, guesses they probably have no idea where they're going or what they're doing. And then she realises that she has no idea where they're going or what they're doing, either.

Her voice is scratchy, hoarse, from screaming more than from crying, and then from hours of disuse. "Where are we going…Merle?" The name is foreign on her tongue, she hopes she remembered his name right; she's never met Merle before tonight, and though she doesn't make a habit of getting into cars with redneck boys she went to elementary school with and their strange older brothers, she wasn't really left with much of a choice.

"Campin' girly," the brother that's driving answers her without a glance, and Holly looks over, sees that he's grinning like he doesn't have a care in the world, like the dead haven't risen with a craving for his flesh. Holly decides he's either mad or stupid…or maybe both.


	2. Chapter One

**Proof read this so many times and it still feels wrong. Sorry if the Daryl and Merle characterizations are off, they're hard characters to write! Haha. But thank you to the lovely people who faved and followed this, it means a lot, and another thanks to FanFicGirl10 who posted the very first review to this story, it was lovely. **

**Just a quick heads up about racial slurs in this story, which I forgot to add to the summary. **

**And also, before I finish my ramble, if there's any Americans reading this, then would it be a hassle to get someone to help me out with a few questions I have about some little things? Please PM me, it would be awesome.**

**Anywayyy. Enjoy & please review. **

There's a quarry, 38 miles north west of home, and that's where Merle decides they're camping, probably decided long ago. It's a good spot, Holly decides after having a quick look around; they're surrounded by forest, and the camping area itself is big enough that they won't be taken by surprise should anything want to attack them. But then, there's no houses, no towns, nothing, around for miles and miles, and maybe they'll be safe there. All they have to do is wait this out, right? Wait for the military to deal with the geeks and then they'll be able to go home and piece back together their lives. Seems easy enough.

As soon as they've pulled up, the younger of the brothers, Daryl, starts pulling all kinds of bags and boxes out of the pick-up's tray, and Holly thinks they must have raided all the camping stores in town for all they have. Daryl unceremoniously shoves a rectangle box at her and she's both surprised and unsurprised to find it's a tent.

"You're prepared," Holly voices, beginning to peel the tape off the top of the box.

"Transmissions been gettin' more an more urgent, girly. Haven't ya been payin' any attention?" Merle is the one who responds to her from the other side of the truck, despite the fact that she really made the comment to Daryl. "Went down to the campin' store in the middle of town to take all the shit I could, didn' count on the nigger already bein' one o' them. That made it easy. Was even easier puttin' my machete through his skull." And he tips his head back and laughs, all the way from his belly, like he's told the funniest joke ever. Holly thinks she might be sick, decides that Merle is definitely mad.

Daryl is moving around, setting up his tent, ignoring the things that Merle is saying, he must have heard this story before. Is he sickened by it too? Mr. Tanner who owned the camping store was a nice guy, she saw him around town sometimes, he always said hello to her and her friends with an easy, polite smile. Mr. Tanner had two kids, girls, both younger than Holly. One was away at med school. Holly hopes that wherever she is, she's safe. The other lived at home with her dad. She doesn't want to know what happened to her; it probably wouldn't be pleasant.

Holly sighs sadly, idly turning the heavy tent box over so the contents will fall out onto the patch of ground she's picked for herself. She ignores the sting of tears when she can't help but let thoughts of her own mother invade her brain. She was in bed, sleeping after staying up all night keeping a look out when one got her. It just ambled into their fucking house like it was invited, having smelt fresh meat for it to feed on. She didn't scream, didn't wake up in time to do so; it tore straight through her throat. Holly ran in there when she heard the mindless, flesh-lust gurgle of the geek, but it had been too late. The thing was so distracted that it didn't even notice Holly was there; she was able to run to the kitchen, grab an old, blunted knife from the knife block, and stick it straight through the back of the head of the monster.

Looking down now, Holly notices her hands are shaking just like they did when she dropped the knife in surprise at herself. Her mother laid there with lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, and all Holly could do was run straight back out. She packed up a bag of clothes, mind not clear enough - or perhaps too clear - to take any trinkets, anything with sentimental meaning. It was a big hiking bag she had, bought from Mr. Tanners store when she was younger and needed it for a school camping trip. When the bag was stuffed almost full, she had made her way to the kitchen, collected the rest of the knives from the block, and all the imperishable foods she could carry from the pantry. It's like she was on auto pilot. There was no thought involved in the whole process, and if Holly had stopped and allowed herself to think, just for one moment, about any of the events that had just occurred she wouldn't have been able to do anything.

She grabbed her car keys from the table in the entry way before heading outside through the open front door, and all she could see was chaos. Only the day before the infection hadn't spread to town. All there was were alerts on the radio, on the TV, everywhere, but none of it became real until the moment that Holly was standing on the front step of the house she had lived in since she was 7, watching the world turn to shit right in front of her very eyes.

There was two of the monsters tearing a businessman from down the street up, on the hood of her car, and she didn't even take a second to process anything before her feet carried her so fast by them she didn't even remember doing it.

Holly ran. Ran through the chaos, and all she could do was pray that none of them got to her. Holly wasn't a warrior, she wasn't a fighter; she wasn't built for this world, and almost all the way through the housing estate she ran, because there was nothing else she could do. Just run and run and ignore the burning in her legs and the pain in her chest and the hungry groans of the not-dead, but there was no other plan formulating in her disorganised head. Just run until there was no where else to go, until she couldn't, and they got her, and maybe one day, if there was anyone left, it could be said that at least she tried.

But then she was stopped dead in her tracks, not because she couldn't run anymore, not because one of them got her, but because right in front of her, ripping up a young boy, was Holly's best friend.

Holly blinks, brought back to the present by Merle calling to her across the cleaning, "Ya even know how to set that up?" The brothers already have their 4-man tent set up, Daryl carting stuff from the ground by their pick-up over to where they were situated.

"I know how," Holly mutters, moving to unroll the tent, which smelt of new nylon. It's an ugly shade of green, but beggars can't be choosers. It's pitch black by the time she's all set up, must have taken her a fair while because Merle and Daryl are sitting by a fire on the other side of the clearing, eating from cans. Holly rubs her head, tired, sore, completely drained, but she knows she too should eat something, so she dumps all her clothes onto the otherwise-bare floor of her tent and carries her hiking bag over to where they are. They only have two camping chairs, already occupied, and she figures that the Georgian natives aren't the kind of kids that were raised to give up their chair for a lady, so she just plops down unceremoniously on the hard, warm ground.

She digs through her bag before finding a tin of spaghetti. "Can I please borrow a fork?" Holly noticed that they at least had forks, and they were just holding the cans in their hands, finished eating.

Merle licks his fork clean and hands it over to her, with a calm smile that makes her skin crawl, just a little. All decorum aside, she just wipes it off on the bottom of her already-filthy shirt and pulls open the spaghetti. It's the cheap shit that doesn't need to be cooked, though heating it up would be nice. Of course they don't have anything for her to heat it up in. Holly starts eating, she didn't even realise how hungry she was until she started eating, but by the time she's done the tin she's not even sure she can keep it down. After the events of the day, the last thing she thought she'd be was sitting around a campfire with the almost-silent Dixon brothers, eating shit spaghetti. She ends up bowed over her crossed legs, stomach turning over and over and she thinks she's going to vomit, but after a few painfully slow minutes, it settles. The brothers are up off their chairs before she's sat up again and she figures that they must be heading to bed. It's been a long fucking day, for all three of them.

Merle heads towards the forest, and any genius can figure out that he probably just needs to piss, while Daryl heads over towards the back of the pick up truck. Holly sits there for a few more moments, staring into the bright, angry flames of the small fire they have, before getting up to head across to her own tent.

"Kid," Daryl says, the first thing he's said to her since just after she climbed into the pick up truck and he said, 'are ya bit? Scratched?' and all she did was shake her head. She moves slowly, achingly over to where Daryl is standing. "Here, it's a piece a shit but there's only one other and it's in just as bad shape." He hands her a rolled up air mattress and a bike pump for it. The Dixons really do think of everything, for 'dumbass rednecks,' as her mother used to say.

"What about you guys?" she asks quietly, hugging the mattress to her.

"Already got ours in the tent," he shrugs. She can only just make out one side of his face, because of the dim fire a few meters away, he looks apathetic, and she knows that people like Merle and Daryl Dixon are people that are built for this world, in every way that she's not. It's written all over their rough exteriors, this is probably just another day for them, this whole surviving business.

Holly doesn't say that though, it's not a kind thing to say, so instead she says, "Thank you."

"Ya can't sleep on the ground," is Daryl's simple reply, because even when they were both kids, he never did say a lot.

"No…I meant for stopping. I thought…I'd be on my own," she says softly, eyes cast towards the ground. Daryl has never been an easy person to talk to, and thanking him - especially for something so big - is damn near impossible.

"It was Merle that stopped, not me." His voice is gruff, and Holly thinks that if she were looking at his face that it would be hard, cold, as per usual. It's not something that's easy to get used to, but she thinks she might have to, now that it's just her and the Dixon brothers sitting on the edge of the world, surviving together for God knows how long.

Holly doesn't say anything to that, she doesn't want to presumptuously say that she didn't think it was Merle's idea, why would Merle stop for her, he doesn't even know her, probably wouldn't have any issue leaving her there, whereas Daryl knew her sort of, had since they were kids. He was always a quiet kid, didn't talk to her much, didn't talk to anyone much. Occasionally he acknowledged her existence, couldn't stop himself from doing so this time, couldn't leave someone he knew behind when they were about to get ripped limb from limb. But Holly doesn't say any of these things; she's probably way off the mark she knows, so she just nods once and turns towards her tent. She doesn't expect a 'goodnight', doesn't get one.

Holly crawls into her tent and starts pumping up her air mattress, letting thoughts cloud her mind as she does so, and the weight of the last hours finally sink in to her; she is alone.


	3. Chapter Two

Sorry for taking forever to update! I was going to before I went on a holiday over Christmas but never got around to it. I'm back now though and nothing will get in the way of me updating. Thanks heaps to the new followers and faves, and also to **Archangels Consort2011** and **Dalonega Noquisi** for reviewing, you guys are lovely.

Don't own The Walking Dead, or any of the characters or anything and please don't sue me because I already owe enough people money that I don't have.

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When Holly emerges from her tent the next morning after an almost-sleepless night, Merle is sitting in his camp chair in front of the brothers' tent and Daryl is wandering around the clearing, stopping every ten or so paces to peer into the woods. She wanders over to her self-appointed piece of ground near the fire pit with a box of crackers and a bottle of water in her hands. "How did you sleep?" She asks Merle after sitting down and crossing her legs. She figured she at least owed him some pleasantries, considering, even if Daryl told him to, Merle was the one that did stop the truck to pick her up.

"Woulda been better with you cozyin' up to me, darlin'," he grins, eyes alive with amusement and something darker weaved in. He takes a drag of a cigarette in his hand, blowing it out back in Holly's direction. She gets a smell of the smoke and sighs; a zombie apocalypse was definitely not the right time to reconsider quitting smoking (for the fourth time).

"I'll stick with my tent, thanks." Even though she has no blanket or pillow and an awful crick in her neck from lying on the shitty air mattress all night, her tent is like heaven compared to what she imagines a night next to Merle Dixon to be like.

Daryl comes over and sits down in his own camp chair after what feels like an eternity of stifling silence while Merle sat there smoking and grinning and smoking. Daryl takes the packet of cigarettes out of the cup holder on Merle's chair and takes one and a small lighter out. As soon as he lights up, Holly can't do it anymore. "Give me one."

The brothers both look at her, Merle still grinning and Daryl with raised eyebrows.

"Please can I have a cigarette?" Holly sighs. The brothers continue staring at her for a long moment before Daryl throws them and they hit her in the chest before landing in her lap. The lighter comes next, but it misses her and hits the dirt a few meters behind her. With the cigarette hanging between her lips, Holly rolls onto her back and then sideways to the orange lighter, not bothered about both getting up or the state of her already dirty clothing. She shuffles back to her spot and lights up. Merle is still watching her, more amused than before, but Daryl is looking into the trees again from his chair.

"Seeing anythin' Darlina?" Merle grunts at his brother. Daryl just shakes his head, looking perplexed. Holly thinks he should be relieved, both of them should be, but the Dixon brothers aren't exactly normal. Holly knew about their family, her mother had sat her down and explained it to her when she was ten and she couldn't understand why Daryl never had - or seemed to want - any friends. Grizzly home life: mother dead, father an unkind alcoholic. They lived in a tiny house in the wrong part of town, and the older brother who she'd never met before yesterday was always in and out of juvenile detention for this and that. They're the kind of boys who only know conflict and survival and this is almost status quo for them, in a weird way.

"How old are you?" Holly finally asks Merle, after taking the last, long drag of her cig. So she knows some things about them but not much, and if she's going to spend the rest of this damn apocalypse just the three of them then she may as well get to know them.

"36," he answers straight away, leaning forward in his chair to look over at her again. She feels small, weak under his gaze, but then that's probably how he intended her to feel, so she leans forward just a small bit herself, to show she's not intimidated by him. "How old are you girly?"

"27," she tells him after a beat. She knows Daryl is 29, a bit under two years older than her, so she doesn't bother asking him; he probably wouldn't hear anyway, still scanning the tree line for movement.

"My turn," Merle says, drawing Holly's attention from his younger brother back to him. Before Holly can object, tell him that she didn't want to play 20 fucking questions, she just wanted to know his age, he's leaning forward further, to the point that she thought he might fall out of his chair. "Killed any of them geeks yet?"

Holly leans back again, stretches out one leg in front of her and starts gently kneading her calf, aching from all the running of yesterday. "Yes." She's looking down at her dirty jeans clad leg as she says this, doesn't want to look at Merle who's probably grinning again, at Daryl who doesn't give a shit what she says about anything, probably doesn't even care if she's even there or not.

"What with?" It's surprisingly Daryl who asks her. Holly looks up and his eyes are trained right on her, not on the tree line anymore. She doesn't feel small and weak under his gaze like she does Merle's. He isn't asking for his own sick pleasure like Merle would, she can see it. So she answers him, even though for the split second she thought it was his brother asking the question, she was set on not answering. "With knifes, from my mom's kitchen."

He sighs, shakes his head and goes back to looking at the tree line. She thinks he's done looking at her, talking to her, for the day, and she belatedly remembers the crackers she brought over with her. The box was kicked away in her lighter-expedition but she only has to reach to grab them. Then finally Daryl speaks again, a small hint of amusement in his tone but not the same dark kind as Merle's. "Fuckin' kitchen knives. Blunt, right?"

Holly shrugs. "Well I'm alive, so they did their job." She shoves one of the crackers into her mouth, they're plain and a little bit disgusting but it's not like she can just pop down to the shops and get some dip or anything.

"Do you know how to shoot a gun, or how to use a knife properly?" Daryl asks again, glancing back at her to unnecessarily show he's talking to her.

"No, never needed to, and I'm pretty sure when it comes to knives you just…" she makes a stabbing motion with the cracker box in her hand, aiming towards a hypothetical head. He just shakes his head again and rubs a hand over his eyes. She's scared for a moment, a very long moment, because she thinks he might tell her that she can't stay with them anymore if she can't do anything to defend them or something like that, but he doesn't. In fact he doesn't speak again for some time, and she figures the conversation really is done now.

The sun is high in the sky by the time any of them make a move to do anything other than eat, drink or smoke. Merle gets up, says he's going down to take a bath in the quarry, invites Holly to join him but she shakes her head and ignores the small wave of disgust that crashes through her stomach. Daryl chucks his most recent cigarette on the ground and crushes it under his boot when he stands. He doesn't offer an explanation as to where he's going, just wanders off in the opposite direction Merle went, and Holly decides to go back to her tent.

She sits down on her naked air bed with a weary sigh. Once again the feeling of being completely alone creeps back in and Holly's eyes well up. She sat at the fire pit all morning, defying her body and minds' wish just to break down and weep for all her lost loved ones. Thoughts of them crept into her mind when silence took over the clearing, which was most of the time, and she was now glad for an opportunity to just be alone with her thoughts. After a few long minutes of staring at the floor of the tent, she picks up her blackberry from the corner of the tent where it was thrown the night before; the battery isn't going to last even until the next day, but Holly figures she's not really going to be messaging any of her friends to go out for coffee together or calling her mom to see if she needs anything from the supermarket anymore, so it doesn't matter. Her hands shake as she goes into her voicemail and lies down to listen to the only message she had saved on there.

_"Hi honey. Just letting you know I'm staying at Josh's house tonight, so you don't worry about me,"_ her mothers voice is light, pretty, and she chuckles a little when she says the last thing; Holly sees the irony in it and doesn't find it the slightest bit amusing. _"I'll see you tomorrow, don't do anything I wouldn't do. Love you."_

Holly weeps.

-

Still trying to set up the story at the moment, it will pick up haha. From my introduction of stuff you can probably already tell that it's going to be a bit of an AU story, but not super AU. I don't wanna give anything away though.


	4. Chapter Three

Thank you **FanFicGirl10** for reviewing twice, I promise I'm building up to more Holly/Daryl interactions, and the whole story won't be this slow. And also thanks to **Flowers** for asking me to update soon; ask and ye shall receive…eventually.

Don't own, don't sue, you won't get shit.

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Holly's mouth is dry when she wakes up the next morning, but her clothes are soaked through with sweat. The day is already boiling hot and Holly thinks it's probably not even nine yet. When she emerges from the sweltering tent into the morning sun of Georgia the Dixons are no where to be seen. She makes her way over to where the campfire is burned out and sits down in Merle's camp chair, picking up the huge bottle of water that's sitting next to it and taking a few generous gulps.

"Ya right?" It's Daryl who's addressing her, walking from the woods into the clearing. He has a few fat rabbits slung over his shoulder and Holly's stomach growls at the sight. Well, she assumes they're food and Daryl hasn't always just wanted a few pet bunnies and thought now was a good time to chase his dream.

She tilts the bottle at him and smiles her thanks, awkwardly. "Morning Daryl. You must have been up early to catch them…"

He squints up at the sun, looks back at her, says, "It's 'round 10, only been gone a few hours, you slept late."

"Shit, should probably call my boss, let her know I'll be late for work," Holly says sarcastically, not really sure what else she should say, but knowing that if she's going to spend however long else with him and his brother she may as well try to get more than a few words at a time out of him, maybe even a laugh.

He doesn't laugh though, just squints at her like he was at the sun, before unceremoniously dumping the rabbits on the ground by the firepit. "'Reckon we gonna get a good few feeds outta them. Where's Merle?"

Holly shrugs, "No idea. Water?" Daryl takes the water and she sighs. "So what's the plan Daryl? We just gonna camp up here and wait it out? Check the radio every day hoping for something other than the same thing about going to Atlanta? Or maybe until they come here and tear our faces off as well?"

Daryl looks at her like he might be thinking for a few moments, before shaking his head. "Far enough from the city to not haveta worry about the freaks, an' Atlanta sounds like a death trap, 'least to me an' Merle, you're welcome to make your way there but. Yer, the plan is to camp here an' wait it out."

"Why a death trap though?" Holly doesn't understand, she's confused and worried enough to start ripping her own hair out, sick of waiting up in the quarry for it to all just suddenly blow over.

"All it'd take is jus' one of them to get in an' all them are fucked, think about it. An' what happens when the food runs out? There's safety in numbers an' all that bullshit, sure, but not that many."

She's taken aback, not expecting that response, and all of a sudden, even looking at the tops of the Atlanta skyscrapers over the hill and in the distance, it makes so much sense for them to stay put where they are. "Do you think this is all going to just blow over?"

Daryl has taken out a knife, and starts pulling at the knots in the rope holding the rabbits together. He doesn't look at her. "Dunno."

That doesn't comfort Holly even slightly.

-

Her tent is even hotter when she returns to it after sitting in silence and the sun with Daryl watching him skin and gut rabbits for a good half an hour. Eventually Merle wandered back and Holly took that as her leave, taking a few gulps of water before she left.

She decides to finally get something done about the state of her tent, taking note of the dirty clothes, the food, all her personal stuff just strewn everywhere. It's not a good way to have things should she need to be ready for something, or should they need to move out quickly. She makes a pile of dirty clothes in one corner of the tent and by the time she's finished that two minutes of work there's already sweat dripping down her forehead. She ignores it, pushes her dark brown fringe off her forehead and keeps working until things are either in the dirty clothes pile, the food pile or in her bag. She stuffs and hooded sweatshirt full of clothes to use as a pillow and finds herself, drained by the heat of the day, lying down and eventually dozing off.

-

When Holly wakes, it's must be well after dark and she swears, pushing herself quickly from her mattress and crawling out of her tent. The Dixon brothers are sitting in their regular seats by the fire, Merle poking at something in a dish sitting on it. "Well brother, look what the cat dragged in." Merle grins as she walks up. Holly sits down on her patch of dirt across from them and doesn't make eye contact. It was stupid to sleep all day, weak and lazy. She's angrier at herself than she realises until Daryl offers her some rabbit, slightly burned, sometime later on one of those shitty plastic camping plates, and she snatches it violently enough for her dinner to almost end up on the ground. She grumbles out an apology and a thanks, before picking up her food with her fingers and all but devouring it. Rabbit has never exactly been part of her 'Favourite Foods' list, or even her 'Regularly consumed' list, having only eaten it a couple of other times in her life, but god damn it tastes amazing because she hasn't eaten all day.

All that can be heard from the trio for several long minutes is chewing and swallowing and chewing and swallowing and once even a small moan of satisfaction from Daryl which Holly finds herself smiling into her food over. The Dixons aren't too bad, there's definitely worse people to be spending this time with.

Their food-fuelled silence is broken by the sound of helicopters overhead and Holly realises belatedly, after the brothers have already stood up, that there's not just one of them, but four, all heading over towards the city. Holly is confused, she's a bit scared and she doesn't know why, maybe it's just supplies, maybe it's food or medicine or maybe some military to help police what must be a very overcrowded Atlanta. They head up the rise to where they have a clear view of the city and watch the helicopters, almost over the place now. They don't appear to be slowing down, and that scares Holly more. They're not going in to land, and Holly thinks her hands might be shaking, but then realises all of her is shaking as a sharp whistle pierces the air and before she can even process the sound, the city is shrouded in balloons of fire.

Merle cheers, laughs, thinks it's the best thing ever, as the bombs keep falling on the city and eventually all Holly can see is Atlanta as one big fire ball and the edges of her vision going white and shit, she has to reach out and clasp Daryl's arm to keep from falling over because they're fucking bombing Atlanta which is meant to be safe, it's meant to have the refugee centre, people are meant to be safe there and "What the absolute fuck?!"

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Thanks for reading guys :)

Constructive criticism would be much appreciated.


	5. Chapter Four

**FanFicGirl10**, you, sir, are amazing for reviewing every chapter so far. I don't see Merle as evil as such, but more…really, really selfish, in a sense that where if something doesn't effect him directly, doesn't put his life or anything in danger then it's merely something to get a kick out of, to be marvelled at, such as the Atlanta bombing.

, thank you heaps for reviewing too. There's more backstory for Holly and Daryl to come, but yeah, essentially these days they are strangers. The rest of the group will be here soon. ;) I'm just working on establishing the characters I'm already using before adding the rest of them. As for Merle, thank you for thinking he's not one dimensional. One of both the good and shit things about S1 was that he didn't get much screen time at all before being handcuffed to the roof, so I think there's so much there left up to interpretation of the viewer.

And thank you heaps to my new followers and those who faved :)

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The stench is overpowering when it hits them, standing on the hill. The sound was so loud that by the time her ears have stopped ringing, everything else hits Holly at once; visually it's horrifying, she never thought she'd witness anything close to this destructive, this straight up brutal, but nothing will ever erase the smell from her mind, her nose, the back of her throat. It's the acrid, pungent smell of carbon monoxide, it feels like someone started a truck with her face right near the exhaust, but then there's something underneath that, something like death, but life too.

"That's fuckin' Napalm," Daryl mutters, and when Holly looks at him, she sees that he's afraid. This is the first time she's ever seen something like fear coming from Daryl. His eyes are wide, glassy, his adams apple bobbing constantly as he tries to breathe and swallow through the smell. He's stiff. He's terrified. She is too, she realises, too scared to even tremble.

Napalm. "That's inhumane, it's illegal," Holly spits out, coughing the taste out of her throat. It doesn't work.

"Think we're a bit past humane or legal now girly," Merle tells her. He isn't grinning anymore, but still looks so at ease, like a fascinated child seeing a dangerous snake or spider for the first time; he doesn't realise the danger. Holly immediately knows after that thought that she didn't either. Maybe she never will, fully.

"If they got in, there would still be people alive. They killed them, they just killed everyone, Merle! They fucking Napalmed them, and you're okay with that?!" Her voice gets higher and louder the longer she speaks, she's almost screaming at the end. "We can't do shit about it, fine, but have some goddamned humanity, that's what sets us apart from them! Thinking, feeling…compassion, love,"

"I'm thinkin' you should be feelin' like shuttin' the fuck up right abouts now, kid." Merle glares, but doesn't step forward, doesn't move slightly towards her. Holly knows then and there not to be afraid of him. He wanders away after that, doesn't seem to have any urgent place to be, just not there.

"So you were right," Holly finally says to Daryl, watching the smoke bloom out of Atlanta. "It wasn't safe after all."

"Yer," he mutters, tension leaking from his bones and muscles. "Wonder where the next death trap'll be."

"D'you really reckon we're safe here Daryl? They're gonna come up this way eventually." She shivers, despite the warm night air, and thinks that in some weird way, she's glad that her mother isn't here to witness this, being even less of a fighter or survivor than Holly.

Daryl shrugs, finally looks at her. His eyes are dark with fear, with a murderous rage that doesn't scare Holly, makes her feel safe because that is what makes Daryl and Merle warriors. "For the time bein' I reckon. They still got places to pick through before they start gettin' desperate."

That simple fact of their new life doesn't reassure Holly in the way it probably should; she hasn't even had a chance to mourn her old life properly, and when did their new lives start anyway? Was it the day there was the first warning on the news?

"Hello and welcome to the six o'clock news, I'm Sarah Bird, our top story tonight is…"

"Mom news is on!" Holly calls from her seat on the couch to her mom in the kitchen. Her mom has this strange, unrivalled love for the news that involves watching it three or four times a day. Holly doesn't really see the point, it's the same stuff every time, but okay, whatever floats your boat, mom.

Holly's mom comes in, drying her hands with a towel, smiling. "Did you see the one about the man rescuing puppies from the river this morning? It was the loveliest thing."

"No mom, sorry." Holly doesn't have a TV at work like her mother does. Lucky bitch gets to watch game shows all day, and the news as much as she damn wants at her work.

"…No one is sure as yet how serious the infection is, or whether there's a cure or vaccination, but the government is asking people to practise extra vigilance at all times, and if you see anyone who is infected, to call 911 or your local police, and do not approach them."

"What was all that about?" Holly is shaking her head, and picks up the remote to flick to a different channel, to see if they can get more of the story they just missed.

Or maybe the start of their new lives was when Holly had to put her first one of the 'infected' down, or maybe it's when she was shoving things into a backpack to leave, maybe it was when she was picked up by the brothers. The line between old life and new life is somewhat blurry for Holly. Maybe it doesn't matter though, everything she once had, all the people she loved, all gone. Now Atlanta is too. What's the point in all this?

Daryl reaches out and awkwardly touches her shoulder, pulling Holly out of her thoughts. They're still standing there up on the rise watching smoke billow out of the city but Holly managed to tune it out just for a second. When she comes back to reality, she can taste it in the back of her throat again, the smell, and her eyes are stinging with both smoke and tears.

"I'm goin' to check the radio," Daryl tells her, snatching his hand away. She watches him walk away, her leg twitching. Was that an invitation to follow? The corner of her mouth turn's up and with one last look over at the city, she turns and follows Daryl down the hill to his truck.

The emergency broadcast is still going, still telling people to head towards their nearest cities, that there's safety there. Daryl scoffs when the automated voice says this, rolls his eyes. Of course there's nothing new, why would there be? How could there be? The cab is silent after that, besides the same minute long message being looped over and over. After the fifth time, Holly wants to rip the radio out and throw it in the quarry with frustration.

"Do you have any more cigarettes?" To calm my nerves, Holly silently adds afterwards, because she feel like she might explode with tension. Daryl reaches over her from the drivers side and opens the glove compartment. There's a packet of reds in there and Holly greedily grabs them, belatedly realising that Daryl almost had his head in her lap. He smells, she notices after that, like sweat and smoke and blood from the animals he skinned earlier, but there's something under that, earthy and sweet. She tries not to think about it too much as she grabs a smoke and the lighter out of the pack and lights up. She hands them both to Daryl and he's not nearly as needy, just plucks them from her hand casually and taps his cigarette on the top of the packet, which is almost empty.

After he lights up, Daryl flicks the radio off and they sit in the truck with the doors open, smoking in what might be the first comfortable silence she's had in days and days. Silence is suffocating normally, it's puts you on edge, makes you think it's the calm before the storm. Silence with Daryl and Merle is usually not too comfortable, with Merle watching her, always, and Daryl just looking around with the interest of a skilled hunter. This is comfortable, Holly might even branch out and say it's a little nice.

It takes smoking it down to the filter before Holly realises it's done, and she flicks it out the car door onto the dirt. Her legs are a bit like jelly and her head feels light, body unused to nicotine at the moment. She sits silently as Daryl smokes slower than her, takes his time to enjoy the flavour as opposed to pumping it down to relieve stress. She feels their silence start to get awkward and maybe that's just because Holly doesn't have anything to distract herself with now, but she has to speak, say something, anything. "How are we going for supplies?"

Daryl glances at her, then away. "We got everything we need."

"We can't eat squirrel forever, Daryl," she implores.

"Reckon we could," he looks at her again, something that could be interpreted as a smirk on his face, but then he rolls his eyes a little. "I'll catch ya a deer or something if ya shut up about it."

Holly sits back and folds her arms over her torso. "If I get another smoke, too."

He chucks the packet at her chest with a huff and when Holly grins, it feels like the first time in too long.

"You lived with your mom, didn't ya?" Daryl asks, plucking the cigarette pack from her hands a second time. Holly just nods, terrified he'll ask more things. He does. "Where's she?"

"They got her. She was in bed, sleeping." Holly can't look at him, can't let him see her weakness. "Killed the freak…did nothing for mom, just left her there."

"Why? She'll be one now." Daryl's more talking to the windscreen, to the trees in front of the car.

Holly sighs, deeply, tiredly; doesn't wanna talk about it, never thought she'd have to, especially with Daryl. She leans her head against the headrest and sits back. Daryl sits, the picture of casualness, with one elbow on the steering wheel, turned a bit towards her. "Didn't even process in my head that I'd be helping her, that it was right thing to do. Even running around, packing shit, knowing I was running away from that shit, from my dead mother, all alone. I knew she was dead, I just didn't think to 'put her down'."

"Fuck livin' like that, put me down." Daryl says shortly. She's glad he isn't pressing more.

"I'll remember that," Holly tells him quietly, earnestly, but still prays silently she won't have to put him down. She doesn't know if she could kill someone that she knew, knows it would be too hard.

"Do you wanna be?"

"Killed if I'm bit? Honestly haven't even fuckin' thought about it. I've been so busy worrying about them actually getting me, how painful it would be to get torn apart like that. Guess I keep looking over what comes after, the whole," she makes some weird gurgling and groaning noises, flops her head to the side, "thing."

Daryl smirks again, Holly thinks, but it could just be the bad light making her think so. They finish their cigarettes and head back over to the campfire. It's late, around 10 or 11, but no one has a watch to be sure.

Merle seems to have fallen asleep in his chair and Daryl heads off to the edge of the woods, presumably to take a piss, so Holly purposely sits in his chair, looking in the other direction. His chair faces the road that leads down to the highway, eventually. She's never stopped and looked at the camp from this view before, it makes it feel so much more open, on display. It's unsettling. Daryl comes back and sits down in Holly's usual patch of dirt, he doesn't seem to give two shits that Holly's in his chair. He gulps down a large amount of the bottle of water her brought over, before holding it out to Holly. She gratefully drinks the rest and rests more comfortably in the seat, realising it's the most comfy she's been since leaving home.

"Thanks Daryl." Holly yawns, mostly because it's a natural reaction to it being late in the night, not because of tiredness. The sleep she had in the day means that even if she went to bed, she'd just toss and turn for hours. Holly looks over at Merle to make sure he's really asleep before looking back at the younger Dixon. "What about your dad?" She knew what happened to Daryl and Merle's mother, everyone did. She died in a house fire when Daryl was just a little kid, he was out of school for over a month while they tried to get the funeral done, find new housing, new things. Everyone knew that story.

"Haven' seen him in years, since I was 'bout fourteen," Daryl shrugs, crossing his legs. "He's probably dead, if he wasn't already."

Holly is taken aback by Daryl's lack of caring about his father. She doesn't push and question why he seems to be as bitter as he is, why he hasn't seen his dad in so many years; every family has their problems and she doesn't want to pry more.

Holly's stomach makes a quiet growling noise, dinner wasn't long ago but it wasn't very big either, and she thinks of the canned goods in her tent. "Are you hungry? I still am."

"Yer, could eat." Daryl shrugs. He doesn't seem to wanna go to sleep anytime soon. Holly leaves to retrieve something canned and manages to find some tinned beans. Not her favourite, but she doesn't want to go through all the spaghetti and packet rice, the good things, too quickly. When she comes back Daryl heads off to get forks.

He sits down closer to her than before so they can share the can, and if Holly just turns off her brain for a moment, it feels nice. It reminds her of camping when she was younger, with her parents and cousins and aunts and uncles, every summer. But then of course, you can't spend too long not thinking about it being the end of the world, and Holly is smacked in the face by reality when she realises she's got tears on her face, and Daryl has been holding the can of beans out to her for fuck knows how long.

Daryl doesn't look too interested in her crying, and she's thankful. She takes the beans off him with a shaky hands and tries to tell herself that if she has something to eat she'll feel better. She eats the beans carefully, concentrating on making her hands not shake, concentrating on making sure no beans fall off the fork, concentrating on not concentrating on Daryl.

Holly eats her fill and hands the rest of the tin to Daryl to finish, which he does gratefully. Merle snores loudly and she jumps, both forgetting that he was even there and thinking it was one of the monsters. She settles again when it processes that it was just him, and when she looks over at Daryl, though his face gives away nothing, she thinks his eyes look amused.

* * *

There, we got a decent amount of Daryl and Holly interaction, right? Haha. This is a long one to say sorry for being a shit updater, I originally had it split into two parts.  
Anyway, it's Australia Day so I'm off to get shitfaced at the pub. Leave some love for tomorrow when I'll definitely be needing it.


	6. Chapter Five

Pretty proud of myself that I managed to get this out today, considering I've got a full Saturday of the mother-in-law coming to visit and then partying on tonight. This is the last of the pre-written chapters, but updating frequency (not that it's that frequent anyway…) isn't going to change.

**FanFicGirl10** - Haha I know you're a girl sorry, I just call everyone sir. Thanks for reviewing again, I hope this chapter pleases you.

- Thanks heaps again. I'm glad the interaction made you happy, and I think Daryl is amused by Holly a lot because he's never spent a great deal of time around people that want to make him laugh.

* * *

Holly has fallen asleep in the chair, Daryl notices, after a few long minutes of silence. He should be getting some sleep too, to be up early to hunt, but at this point it's probably easier just to stay up to head off at dawn. He doesn't mind just sitting on the ground listening out for any of the freaks, or any animals that might be up at this time of night. With Merle snoring quietly in his chair and Holly making only the quietest breathing noises, it's easy to keep one ear trained on the forest and one on the campsite.

He likes Holly, he decides. She doesn't pry too much, doesn't do too much chattering away like women do. Maybe that's just because she's decided that they're not worth chatting away to, knows they won't listen, but he appreciates it all the same. She doesn't seem to mind Merle that much, which is rare for a girl, doesn't seem to mind him either.

She needs to learn to use a gun, handle a knife properly, a real one, not one from her ma's knife block. But then, she's made it this far, almost made it all the way out of town before they picked her up, so she can't be that bad. Still, once he's managed to find a deer or something that will sustain them long enough so he can take a day or two off hunting, he'll take her out, help her learn these things. He normally wouldn't be too keen to be the one teaching a lady how to handle weapons, wouldn't even volunteer in a normal world, but him teaching her could be the difference between life and death, maybe for all three of them. He won't play babysitter so some chick who can't defend herself in a time like this, it's not practical. He decides it's something he'll bring up with her in the morning, thinks she'll be fucking nuts not to take him up on the offer, but then, weirder things have happened.

Holly is sitting in the chair in a way that looks so damn uncomfortable that Daryl laughs quietly to himself. One of her legs is tucked under her and the other is slung over the arm of the chair. She seems to pretty comfortable though, so even though her neck and back are going to hate her later, he doesn't wake her up. She's alright, doesn't complain about having to camp, to eat squirrel and shitty tinned food, doesn't complain about bathing in the cold quarry water or not being able to blow dry her hair or whatever women complain about when camping.

As far as company goes for this, he could have picked worse, and he's glad he hasn't been forced to regret making Merle stop for her when they did.

_They've given up on trying to defend their home. The infection hit them the night before and it spread quickly, so quickly, and Daryl is thankful that they decided to pack up the truck just days beforehand, because the things are ambling around on the road, in the forest behind their house, and they wouldn't have a chance to pack up all their things now._

_Merle's motorbike is secured in the tray of the truck and there's bags and boxes surrounding it. There's food and water and tents and clothes and weapons and everything else they might need while camping out. There's some new things that Merle got from the camping store, just in case, but most of it is old, shitty stuff they've had for years, like the old blue nylon tent that Merle insists on keeping, despite there being rips and holes in it. _

_Daryl folds the tray up and climbs quickly into the passenger side of the truck. Merle's sitting in the drivers side looking pretty disinterested, but he knows his brother, knows that he's just keeping an eye out, pretending he's not. They back all the way down the drive way to their home, and Daryl isn't even slightly sad when it's out of his sight, possibly for the last time. They live on the outskirts of town, but have to head through to reach the road that meets up with the highway._

_It's slow goings through the town. The truck doors are locked but that doesn't ease the pure adrenaline pumping through Daryl's veins as they drive carefully around bodies, debris, cars, everything. They get to the main road and it's a lot more deserted, hardly any cars, a few of the freaks here and there but nothing they can't just drive around. The freaks are still busy chasing the living around, so they go fairly unnoticed, besides a few trailing slowly behind the truck. _

_They get to the typical 'THANKS FOR VISITING' sign before Daryl sees her, surrounded by the freaks. They closing in quick but she's not doing a bad job considering all she appears to have is a single knife. "Merle. Merle stop, now."_

_Merle looks at him, sees where Daryl is looking, but doesn't stop. The debris has thickened up again, the dead, the cars, so the truck is moving slowly once again. _

_"Now," Daryl tells him sharply, unlocking the door. When he pushes it open, Merle has no choice but to stop and Daryl yells out to the girl, "Quick, get in." _

_She doesn't stop to question him, just shoves through the geeks in one move, runs as fast as she can. Daryl has to pull his knife on two while she's bolting to them, but once she's safely in the cab, he jumps in, doesn't give a shit he sat half on top of one of her bags, and slams the door. "Go, Merle."_

_He's glad to have someone other than Merle to talk to, because talking to Merle can vary from feeling like talking to a brick wall to feeling like he's talking to his dad, which was never exactly pleasant. _

Daryl stands up to stretch his cramped up legs when he sees it, just the quickest flash of light on trees down the road up to the camp. He decides it was just his imagination right before he sees it again, further up, and when he listens properly, he can hear the rumble of…a truck? The flashes of light keep hitting the trees and the sound gets louder until Daryl is able to distinguish that it's not just a truck, but cars as well. He wants to think that they're being rescued, but then there's no way for anyone to know they're up there, so why would it be rescue?

He sees the front of a car when it turns up on the final stretch of road before the camp, then another and another and another, more cars, and finally an RV, not a truck. And hope leaves, he realises it's just more people like them, looking for somewhere safe to hunker down for this plague.

Holly and Merle are both awake, Daryl realises when they flank each side of him, just as all the cars are coming to a stop, lined up next to each other, separating Holly's tent from his and Merle's. Out of an SUV steps a tall, broad man with black hair and a deep frown etched on his face, clearly surprised to see that anyone else was there. More people start climbing out of their cars, looking around vigilantly before stretching out properly. SUV Man walks over to Daryl and Merle, calls out a 'Hey' on his walk over, and Daryl feels more than sees Merle tense up defensively next to him. Holly appears to be standing her ground too, wary of the new additions to their campsite.

"Can I help you?" Daryl says when SUV Man finally approaches. Daryl squares his shoulders, stands up as straight as possible, tries to look intimidating like animals do when it comes to their territory.

"'m Officer Shane Walsh, and me and my group are lookin' for somewhere to set up until this shitstorm passes." Fuckin' cop, Daryl realises, SUV Man is a fuckin' cop and they do not need any shit like that around here.

"You best go find somewhere else then," Merle feels very similarly to Daryl about the police, has no issue standing up and saying no to one, and that won't change now.

Officer Shane Walsh does not look pleased about Merle's response, moves closer to him in an attempt at intimidation. Merle is good at holding his ground though, and even if this comes to blows as it often does with his brother, Daryl has no problems letting him handle it. "Well last I checked, this was public camping ground, so I think we'll be stayin'."

"Rules have changed, _Officer_, I say this is my campin' ground, and you can't do shit about it. You best leave 'fore I get my gun." Merle sneers, closing almost all the space between their bodies and getting right up in his face.

Officer Shane turns, though, instead of paying any more attention to Merle, and looks at Holly. She had been watching the conversation with quiet interest, Daryl thinks that it's probably something she doesn't want to get involved in. The look on her face when Shane talks at her proves he's right. "What's your name, miss?" She doesn't answer. His peripherals tell him Merle is smiling at that. "Well we got women, too, kids, just need somewhere to pitch a tent."

Shane deflates when Holly says nothing, clearly having thought appealing to the only woman here would get him further than talking to the men. Holly might not be good at guns, or knives, but she might just prove to be brave yet, and Daryl respects that. He knows that they aren't going to be able to stop them staying eventually, reckons Merle knows the same thing but just wants show that they're not the kind of people to just lie down. He wants to prove they're not to be fucked with.

"What's goin' on?" A woman with wavy brown hair comes over, a kid, maybe 10, at her heels. "Hi, I'm Lori, this is my son Carl."

"Well lady, we was just tellin' ya boyfriend here that y'all ain't stayin so why don't ya go back over and tell ya friends the good news?" Merle drawls, an easy smile on his face.

"I'm…sorry?" Lori's face is confused and a bit angry, and eventually more of the people amble over. There has to be at least 15 of them. "They bombed Atlanta, where else are we supposed to go?!"

"We saw," Holly finally says, and Daryl moves his head to look at her so fast that his neck cracks. Her voice was quiet and she's looking at the ground. She looks guilty. Daryl sees that she wants them to stay. He wouldn't give a shit if they stayed but then there's Officer Shane Walsh and the Dixon's don't get along with authority.

"There's plenty'a other camps in these hills, off ya go," Merle shoos the group away and walks back over to their tent. End of discussion apparently.

"Holly," Daryl says, turning to the girl to his left. She's looking at him through tired hazel eyes, questioningly. "Move ya tent over this side. Y'all can have that side," he tells Shane. He doesn't know why he's relenting, maybe it's because of the little kids there, maybe because it's good to have an affirmation that there's others alive, maybe because there is safety in numbers. It doesn't matter that much but Shane is nodding his head and says nothing else to Daryl, instead turns to his group.

"Listen, I know y'all are tired, but we gotta get these tents set up, and I think we should have someone keep watch until daylight."

Daryl rolls his eyes. Ain't no freaks up this way yet…but then at least they don't seem too fuckin' stupid yet, seem to at least have an idea of what they're doing; tents, a lookout, a few with small weapons in their hands, just pocket knives and screwdrivers, not much.

They don't bother with introductions, Daryl is glad, he's not good with that shit and he doesn't wanna know them anyway. Holly is off taking down her tent, bags packed up next to the pile of nylon on the ground. He sighs again, it took her a fuckin' hour last time he left her to set it up on her own, Merle was laughing at her the whole time.

His boots feel heavy on his feet, his crossbow heavy on his back as he walks over to what used to be Holly's side of the clearing, fatigue setting in. Maybe he won't hunt at dawn, no point hunting if you're tired and your head isn't in the game, it'd just scare the animals away.

With Daryl's help they have the tent moved over next to his and Merle's and set up in fifteen minutes. "Thanks Daryl." She gives him a small smile and crawls into her tent. "Goodnight."

"…Night." He mutters belatedly, going into his own tent. Merle is on his cot snoring loudly, of course, and Daryl strips off his shirt, boots and socks to sleep, which he does only moments after his head hits his shitty flat pillow.

* * *

So. I've finally got the foundations of the story properly laid out. It only took 6 chapters… Haha. But that means the story won't be moving at such a slow pace anymore. In a few more chapters we'll be where Season 1 picks up, but I'm probably going to do a bit of AU stuff, just to mix it up a bit. Let me know what you think about that idea, and the story so far.


	7. Chapter Six

Hey all, I want to pretend this took a while to get out because I've been busy but really I'm just lazy.

**Fanficgirl10 - **Haha, I know right, Shane's so easy to write as a wanker because all I think when I look at his face is _prickprickprickprickprick, _xD. Thank you for reviewing again, it's always lovely. :)  
**Dalonega Noquisi - **Thanks for that, I hope my Daryl voice isn't too off, he's not an easy character to pin.  
**Fuchsia Grasshopper - **Thank you. :D I've got some ideas for some AU stuff so I'm glad to hear that it's not going to be poorly received by at least one person. And thank you for the comments about the pace and whatnot, it makes me feel happy about what I'm writing and makes me wanna just sit locked in my room and write all the time (sucks about that whole 'real life' bullshit). Hmm yes, I also wonder how Daryl and Merle will react to her spending time with the others. ;)

Thank you to the new favouriters and followers as well. Nice to meet you all. ;)

OH! Also, one last thing. I have a new Tumblr that's a bit more fandom (and walking dead) focused than my old one and I'll be posting bits and pieces of chapters coming up and stuff, so go follow if you've got a tumblr. :) **testsubject-nineteen **. tumblr . com

OHOH. And the very last thing is that there's some racist slurs and stuff in this chapter, sorry if it makes anyone uncomfortable, I don't mean to offend.

* * *

It takes Holly a few moments to find her bearings when she climbs out of her tent early the next morning. She'd forgotten about the people from the night before, that they ended up staying and she moved her tent.

The clearing is already a hive of activity and it's only an hour or so past dawn. The new people seemed to be setting up all their stuff properly, unpacking things from cars and the RV to whomever owned them. A new campfire pit, bigger than theirs, had been set up by the group in the middle of the circle of tents. She notices idly that they left their circle incomplete as to not block out hers or the Dixon's tents, which was nice.

By the time she realises that Daryl and Merle are either still asleep or out hunting, one of the campers has already noticed her. A blonde woman heads over her way with an unreadable expression on her face.

She comes to a stop in front of Holly and puts her hand on her hip. "You and your redneck friends, any particular reason there was a fuss about us staying?"

Holly's eyes narrow slightly, and she thinks of the speech she rehearsed in her head last night, before going to sleep. Holly figured in this new life, new kill or be killed environment, that one thing she can never continue to be was weak. That word has implanted itself in her brain after every post-break up spent moping, after every job burned through when she was younger, hell, even just after a bad day when all she wanted to do was go to bed. And really, it always used to seem easy just accepting you're weak, that's just the way you're programmed, when you weren't balancing on the edge of the world like this. Holly squares her shoulders, says, "I just think that this, here," she gestures widely to the camp, and the bravado makes her feel more confident, bigger. "Is probably not the time to start trusting people you've just met. I've lost enough, if you or any of your friends cause me to lose anything else, I don't…" she takes a shaky breath, realises only as she says it how much truth is in that. She doesn't want to dwell on it, it's scary thinking about caring for something in an apocalypse.

The blonde is silent for a few beats before she says, "I've lost enough, too." She turns and points behind her to another blonde out of hearing distance but still watching the conversation with much intrigue. "That's my sister Amy, she's all I have left," she offers Holly a sad smile, "I'm Andrea."

_Deep breath._ "Holly." _Release._

* * *

"They don't seem that bad," Holly tells Daryl quietly later on that night, while her and the brothers sat around their own campfire. The other group seems to be still busy setting everything up, because according to Merle, 'they got no fuckin' idea what they're doin'', because he seems to think the three of them have this whole 'apocalypse' thing under control. Two members of the group, Officer Shane, and another Holly hasn't met, are standing by a car with a map rested on the hood. They appear to be conversing pretty intensely.

"Ya think? Don't trust none of 'em as far as I can throw 'em." Daryl appears to have noticed the heated discussion going on at the SUV between Bucket Hat and Officer Shane, casting a dark look over their way.

"What happened to safety in numbers?" She asks him, one eyebrow raised.

"Meant campers, hunters, people who actually got a chance," he shrugs like it's nothing. "Not ladies, kids, old people. These people ain't got no idea of what they're doin', reckon they need us more than we need 'em. We got everythin' we need, they don't got shit but a few cans of fruit and a gun between 'em."

"They got a gook, a spic and a fuckin' nigger too, surprised they ain't dead already, bunch of useless pricks," Merle sends a glare in the direction of the other campers. "They got some nice cooze though." He glances over at the campers again and Holly looks too, realises he saw Andrea, who's carrying a bucket of something across to her campmates.

Holly rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything in response to either thing Merle has just said. Daryl doesn't say anything about it either, doesn't even look at his older brother, just looks at Holly through slightly narrowed eyes. "What changed ya mind? Didn't seem to want 'em here last night."

"Didn't wanna make decisions that aren't my place to make," she corrects him. "I met a few of them today; Andrea, the blonde, and her sister is Amy. And that spic is Morales and him and his family are all lovely. I met Carol and her little girl, I forgot her name, and her husband too, Ed, I think his name was. He was a bit of a prick to me," she shrugs. "I don't want to be a pushover anymore, Daryl. But safety in numbers applies here too. If they're useless then so am I, and if you feel that way you wouldn't have stopped to pick me up."

Daryl leans back in his seat. "Couldn't'a just left ya there to be bit, that's different to not letting' a group of people camp where we are."

Holly wonders if that was an indirect confession that it actually was Daryl who made them stop, but doesn't dwell on it. "Maybe we could try get to know them, maybe you could teach them some stuff about hunting or something, help out, so at least they have a chance. Why don't we go have dinner over there?"

"Huntin' isn't something ya just teach someone in a day by takin' them into the woods. Takes years to learn how to hunt properly and I ain't got time for that. And if we gonna go have dinner with them, we gonna take them our food? They probably ain't got any. If ya just givin' away shit here ya may as well give them ya tent, ya sleepin' bag, but you won't get shit in return." Daryl rants at her, voice quiet as to not let anyone else but the three of them hear.

"I don't have a sleeping bag," she tells Daryl sharply, to which he looked surprised. Apparently he hadn't realised that there wasn't enough room for a sleeping bag in her hikers pack and where else would she have been stashing it? "I'm not saying we have to feed these people or look after them or anything but how do we even know there's anyone else alive out there, really? I don't wanna be stuck with you two pricks for the rest of my life, I'll go batshit insane."

At the humorous tone in her voice at the end, which she was using to lighten what had become a very bleak atmosphere, Daryl seems to relent a bit.

"Well if you two pussies are gunna go over there and spoon feed them and wipe their fuckin' asses then I'm goin' to bed. Don't need to know any more people, 'specially not a bunch'a _niggers_ and fuckin' faggots."

"Well goodnight to you too…" Holly murmurs as Merle leaves. With a shrug in her direction, Daryl takes the lead over to the other part of camp to meet the rest of their new neighbours.

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Thanks for reading all :D


	8. Chapter Seven

So my internet's been buggered the last week, so I've just spent heaps of time making gifs and stuff, instead of writing. My bad. But you should all go follow my Tumblr, **testsubject-nineteen, **because I post lots of Walking Dead and will start story updates and snippets. :)

FanFicGirl10 - It would be really nice of Daryl to share his sleeping bag with Holly, wouldn't it? I can't imagine she would say no... Thanks for reviewing again. :)  
Dalonega Noquisi - Indeed yay for new chapters!  
BlackRose851 - Thanks for reviewing, new chapter ye shall recieve :)  
- Thanks heaps, Merle is tricky because before season three we got barely any air time with him so he's hard to pin down, but I'm a Merle fan, I can't help it.  
butitsbetterifyoudo - Thank you heaps :) (also, your name, jesus it's been ages since I've listened to Panic at the Disco but god they're good.)

ANYWAY. Sorry, read on for story. :)

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It's funny how the camp soon falls into a sort of routine, like they've all known each other for years and they're just on a big camping adventure together. They're a good group, generally, but some seem to have been lulled into a false sense of security because of the large group size and the fact that the quarry has remained thus far untouched by the undead. That, combined with rhe workloads everyone had taken on to help the camp, makes it seem almost like they're forgetting why they're here.

Daryl has noticed the same thing, says so one night when it is just Holly, Merle and himself sitting around their small campfire, which is burning low. Everyone else has gone to bed, except Dale who is sitting on top of the RV across the clearing keeping watch, out of earshot. Merle voices his agreement with Daryl using a lot of colourful language, and suggests it's time for the three of them to leave, though he doesn't seem particularly thrilled at the idea of just giving the camp to the newcomers.

Daryl seems to give Merle's idea a bit of thought before turning to Holly. "What'cha think?"

To say Holly is unused to either of the brothers asking for her opinions on anything would be a very big understatement. It's always just assumed she'll go along with whatever the brothers decide they're doing, which is true enough, because they did save her life and all. She finds herself easily trusting the decision making capabilities of Daryl and Merle in what is probably just a misplaced sense of gratitude for the fact that she's alive because of them, but Holly decided the first time she realised this that if the price for her life is that she has to back them and agree with them, then she's happy. They haven't made a bad call so far, they're hunters and gatherers, they're tough, and they were so astoundingly prepared that Holly felt stupid that first night in camp where all she had was a backpack filled with clothes and a few non-perishable foods, whereas they seemed to have every item on the Apocalypse Survival Essentials list, and a few extra things for good measure. If Holly ends up surviving this thing, she's sure it will be because of the Dixon's.

Finally, after staring into the fire lost in thought for a good minute, she looks up at both the brothers in turn. "I guess it makes sense that we stay a bit longer, we don't know what it's like out there, it must be pretty bad if they…bombed Atlanta." She looks specially at Merle, looking for a trace of the amusement he displayed that night, but his face is now stony and a little somber, like he's already cottoned onto and understands what point she's about to make, why they can't just hightail it out of the quarry: "We're as safe as we can be right now. If it comes to it, we can leave, we have no loyalty to thse people." She wants to hit herself as soon as that thought is out of her mouth, because what if one day the three of them are on the road together, and they decide the same thing about her? If they can leave this whole group behind because they have no loyalty to them, then they can do the same to her, because they owe Holly nothing and their loyalties are to each other.

Daryl is leaned over with his forearms on his knees and when he looks over at her, his eyes are glinting in the darkening embers of the fire, and Holly is caught off guard when he nods shortly, like she shouldn't have been looking up at him through her fringe, though he was looking at her first. She looks away to Merle, who merely shrugs his acquiescence, reclined comfortably in his chair with his attention on the conversation.

"We jus' gotta stay alert, an' Holly ya gotta learn how ta defend easel, at the very least." Daryl is looking at her again and she feels so tiny under his gaze like she did that first night at the quarry, feeling stupid about her backpack. So when she asks if he's the one going to be teaching her, she's a little relieved when he says, "Ain't got time," but it's mostly because she doesn't want Daryl to see her fail, doesn't think she could stand feeling so small. "Food's gettin' more scarce," he continues. "Animals're movin' further from the city, gotta track 'em further out. Talk ta Shane tomorrow, cuz Merle won't be assed teachin' ya shit."

"Damn right," Merle grumbles, somewhat good naturedly. Merle is lazy as shit, but she doesn't mind too much anyway, because Shane's a cop that's trained to teach people how to use weapons and self defense, she's sure she'll be save in his hands. Shane isn't a bad guy, he's got a temper and he lacks some tact sometimes, which tends to rub some of the campers up the wrong way, but he's okay by Holly, and Daryl too most of the time, and well, Merle's a different story.

Daryl stands up once the conversation is done to head towards the woods, at this time of night he'd really only be going in there to take a piss, so Holly resists the urge to watch him go and make sure he's okay. Plus, he's big enough to look after himself, and he definitely doesn't need Holly to look after him. When he comes back minutes later, he's rolling his shoulders in their sockets, the crunching sounds making Holly wince. He bends backwards and twists until his back cracks, before standing up tall and yawning. Daryl slaps an almost-dozing Merle upside the head on his way towards the tent, and Merle gets up grumbling, heading over to the woods where Daryl was a minute ago.

"Stay safe out further tomorrow, Daryl." Holly climbs from her resting spot against the log and stretches out her own aching body, and Daryl gives her a short, undecipherable look before nodding and unzipping his tent to head to bed.

- - -

It's easy to lose track of the days when you no longer have work or weekends or a calendar (except one from 1998 hanging in the RV that Dale hasn't bothered getting rid of), but today is Tuesday according to Lori, though Miranda says it's Wednesday and Jim has sided with her, and it's been somewhere around three weeks since their group arrived. Holly has integrated well with them, but still finds herself spending more time with Merle, and when he's around, Daryl. Merle doesn't talk to the new group much still, doesn't wanna be associated with 'them people' and Holly doesn't have to ask what he means when he says that. He helps cook dinner sometimes, but only if it's rabbit because quote "Y'all got no idea what ya doin' when it comes to rabbit, so fuck off and lemme do it and it won't taste like shit." unquote, and that sort of made him in charge of cooking any rabbits that he or Daryl catch.

Occasionally he associates with Jim and Dale, usually talking about sports and cars and whatnot, but that's as friendly as he gets towards the new group. Daryl is a bit better, he talks to people if they talk to him, he is about as polite and talkative as he ever gets, which is saying something. If he's the one cooking lunch or dinner, he portions it out so the kids get the most, then the women, then the men, and finally himself, usually getting the shit at the end and hardly any of it at that, but he thinks no one notices that he does it. Lori asks Holly about it one afternoon, and it seems like Lori has realised for the first time that Daryl and Merle aren't some asshole dumbshit rednecks that're only looking out for themselves (though that can vary depending on the day, such as considering leaving the night before).

But of course when Holly tells her the story of how she ended up with them, Lori seems to think it was the sweetest, most romantic thing ever, despite the fact that the whole thing was just a knee jerk reaction to seeing someone you know about to get ripped to shreds.

"Someone you know?" Lori asks, fishing for the story of how Holly knows the brothers.

Holly has to shift the weight of the bucket she's carrying up from the quarry full of water to the other arm. "Yeah. Well. I've known Daryl, well not known Daryl, but I knew Daryl in elementary school. He was a couple of grades above me, didn't have many friends. He finished and went off to middle school and by the time I got there he'd left, dropped out," she shrugs the shoulder on her free side. "I saw him around every now and then, we didn't talk though, we weren't friends. The only time I ever really spoke to him was a few years ago when he was working at the bar a few blocks from my house and he'd have to serve me sometimes, but then he left and I only saw him once or twice in the three year interim until now."

"Where did you live?" Lori asked, pausing her walking to brush her fringe out of her face and wipe sweat off her brow.

She's not sure what Lori means by the question so she just answers all the ways she could have meant it. "We're from a town about two and a half hours east, the population was small, about 3000? When Daryl was working at the bar I lived with my boyfriend but I'd moved back in with my mom about six months before all this, because we broke up."

"Where's your mom?" Lori asks, voice wavering slightly like she knows the answer. She probably does.

"She was bit, the day I left and Daryl and Merle found me. I…I killed the freak that did it, but. I didn't stop and. I didn't." She looks at her dirty shoes, blinking back tears. "I didn't do anything about her, so she's. She's one of them. I guess. I left my own _mother_ to become one of them." Her arms are like jelly and she has to stop and put her bucket of water on the ground before she drops it. She wipes across both her eyes with the back of her shaking hand and blinks a few times before looking back at Lori, who has reached out and put a gentle hand on Holly's shoulder. "I'm sorry, you didn't need all that."

"My husband died," Lori tells her quietly, and it does nothing to console Holly, it's not meant to, but it's nice in a really selfish sort of way that other people are feeling pain just like she is. Sometimes she feels like she's carrying all this weight on her shoulders while everyone else just prances along this path that they've taken, the reminder that everyone here is carrying emotional baggage of their own is both horrifically depressing and slightly refreshing, she remembers not to feel like the burden to the group.

Holly knows, thanks to Dale and his big mouth, that Lori's husband is dead, he was a Sheriff's Deputy and Shane's partner in the force; he was shot on the job, ended up in a coma, and died at the start of the outbreak. But Holly doesn't want to say this, she doesn't want to say, "Yes I know what happened to your husband because Dale can't keep his mouth shut, sorry, that sucks." because she's bad at empathy sometimes, she doesn't know how to comfort people who are sad, which is the same reason she internalises most of her own problems, because she doesn't want people in that awkward comforting position that she herself can't master. It takes her a minute to figure out the right words for Lori, but in the mean time she reaches up and places her hand over the older woman's, because that seems like the right thing to do, and she's finally able to say, "I'm sorry to both you and Carl. How did it happen?"

And so Lori tells Holly what happened, with pieces of information that Dale had left out, or didn't know, and gives her the summary of how they ended up at the quarry. Shane was a big part of the reason they survived and Holly listens carefully to the way Lori speaks about Shane, and a theory begins to form about Lori's own misplaced sense of gratitude, but Holly doesn't say anything because it's not her place and really, what does it matter now anyway?

When Holly picks up her bucket they start heading up the hill again, with Lori telling Holly how her and her husband Rick met, how they ended up together and about Carl coming along, all with a bittersweet smile on her face, lips twitching downwards at the corner every now and then, suppressing the need to cry.

As soon as they reach the end of the path back at camp, Amy is there with her hands on her hips. "You guys took forever." She grumbles, taking Lori's own bucket out of her arms and heading over to where they have a dishes area set up next to the RV. Holly pats Lori's back softly and gives her a small smile before heading over to her own tent to gather dirty clothes for another trip down to the quarry.


End file.
